She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too.
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